Bulletproof Happiness
by 19thCenturyFleabag
Summary: My first fic fort this fandom... Don't kill me... Mostly MxP fluff after a shooting... ;


**DISCLAIMER: This is my first fanfic for this 'dom, and my first fanfic in... wow... a year. I do NOT own any of the characters mentioned in the following and am just doing it for my own amusement. We all know how sick and twisted THAT is! I don't want to hear any bitching of moping, hate or what-the-hell-ever. If you don't have anything nice to say -- shut your fucking mouth. I know that this is short, pointless, and - God forbid - GAY! You don't HAVE to tell me.**

**Thanks.**

**Key**

BULLETPROOF HAPPINESS

_3:15am, Saturday August 9_

I can think of hundreds of things I would rather be doing. Like... stacking matches, or folding cardboard boxes, or... sleeping.

I can't sleep. God, I can't sleep. The steady blip-blip-blip of that little monitor is going to keep the Sandman at bay for hours still. Hours. Days. I don't know. I don't know anything anymore. I was feeling so sure up until yesterday. Now everything has changed.

My world is going to hell.

_6:32pm, Friday August_

"Hey, Nick... Isn't that...?" Ema pushed her glasses up and peered past my shoulder. I had to stop in mid-stride as to not walk straight into her.

Of course it was. It always was.

"Nick. Ema." The girl at my side stared on in something like awe as he nodded at her. I didn't even have to look when his hand - firm and controlling - fell on my shoulder. "Reservations tonight at Le Masque. At half-seven."

Of course I wasn't going to tell him no. How could I ever tell him no?

Ema glanced between us, falling into place as we continued down the steps, the enormity of the courtrooms behind us for the day. For the week, I hoped. By the time we'd reached the pavement, he'd released his grip on my shoulder and let his hand fall back by his side.

"Try not to be late this time." It wasn't a request. Nothing really was with him. I didn't mind. "I don't like to be seen waiting."

As he walked away, Ema looked up at me, her large, innocent eyes wide with curiosity.

"What?"

"Are you two...?" She flashed me a cheeky grin. "You know..."

I just raised an eyebrow. What could I say? If I admitted anything, she'd hold it over me. If I denied anything, she'd 'scientifically investigate' our relationship until she HAD something to hold over me.

There were gunshots.

And a whole lot of screaming.

_4:20am, Saturday August 9_

Ema touches my shoulder and I feel myself jump.

"Nick?" Where had I been? I blink and wipe my eyes. Not asleep, for sure. "Are you okay?"

"Ngh..."

"Nick? You should go home and get some rest."

Another non-committal noise escapes me and she tightens her grip. I know her gaze is on my hand. The one on the bed. The one holding his limp hand. I don't know what she's thinking. It's hard to tell with girls.

He was always easy to read. Ah, no _is_ easy to read. I have to be positive. He'll be alright. He has to. I can't wait to see that stupid 'I messed up' grin. That 'holier-than-thou' smirk. He's so easy to read, even if I sometimes feel like I've missed a few chapters in his book.

His skin is cool. Pale. Hours ago, it had been warm. Richly coloured. Ema closes her hand over mine.

"Nick"  
"I wanna stay here. You're the one who should go home."

She lets me go and rubs her own eyes. "Yeah, but... I don't wanna. I'd rather be here with you."

I can't help but feel assured that nothing's changed.

"Besides. You need me to take care of you."

We smile, I lean forward and rest my head on the bed.

"How long have you two... You know..."

I cut her off before she can finish. "We're not dating."

Ema sits on the bed by Miles' legs and smiles a sleepy little smile. "You were going out to dinner. You're the only one here iholding his hand/i. He ismiled/i for you. That's like, dating. The dinner and stuff, I mean."

"Not long."

"Not long?" She looks at me, then at him and reaches out to straighten the drip protruding from the back of one elegant hand. I'm closer. I beat her to it. She doesn't miss it. "Yeah, right."

I sigh. There's no need to be guarded. "Two months."

"Two months?" She echoes. I lift mY head; lift an eyebrow. "You guys are still new at it! How'd it istart/i? I mean, you're... YOU!"

I know I had a stupid expression on my face. Ema giggled at swung her legs over the edge of the bed.

_10:54pm, Friday August_

"He's stable. The bullet brushed the pericardium, ricocheted off his sternum and lodged itself to the left of his spinal column. We've removed the round, and are fairly confident that there is no further damage..."

Ema kept listening. I didn't. 'Fairly confident'... 'Fairly confident' is how a runner feels before entering a race. It doesn't matter all that much if they win or only place. We can only win. Placing... that'd be like, leaving him paralysed... or... with internal bleeding... or not discovering a tear in cardiac tissue.

And we could still lose.

I felt sick.

"Nick?" Ema patted my hand. I think I smiled; my face twitched. "He's going to be alright. We can go in now. Isn't that good?"

I think I nodded. I wasn't really 'all there'. My mouth felt like I'd been to the dentist... you know... when they stuff all that cotton wool in and keep asking you questions even though they know full well you can't answer.

"I wanna be there when he wakes up."

She looks at me with those wide eyes again. "You're not happy?"

I must be frowning. "Not yet."

_4:37am, Saturday August 9_

"Well?"

"Well? Ema, he paid for my coffee. It... started to be a bit of a thing. And it just... sort of went from coffee to dinner. And... yeah."

"And yeah? Have you like, gone all the way yet?"

Her casualness leaves me choking. What were teens about these days?! It made me feel... iold/i!

"EMA!"

She just keeps grinning her girlish grin and swinging her girlish legs. "Well?"

"I... NO! Ema, we HAVEN'T...! We haven't... done ANYTHING yet!"

"Do you wanna?"

I know I'm red. Speechless. What?!

"Emaaaaaa!"

"Well?" Swing, swing, swing. "Do you?"

"I-I... EMA!"

"Do you?" Ema jumps down from the bed with a squeak and runs to hide behind me at the sound of his voice, hoarse and dry. The hand in mine shifts, squeezes, then lets go. I lean in; touch his face.

"Don't try to talk..."

"Don't tell me what to do..." I give a shaking smile, but he can't see it. His eyes are still closed. He's frowning, concentrating. "What are you doing here?"

"I..." My smile wavers but Ema makes sure that I don't lose it, leaning in over my shoulder.

"We've been here all night, Mr. Edgeworth. Nick was so worried about you! I tried to tell him to go home, but he wouldn't liste-"

"Even I had to listen, Ema. You keep talking... It's... hard not to hear you."

"Oh..." The girl falls back a little, still holding my arm, but his response is what I'd hoped for.

He's alright.

"Nick..."

I lean in, brushing the hair off his face. "Mm?"

"I want a glass of water."

"Oh!" Ema claps her hands. "I'll get some!"

She darts out the door before I can stop her, and disappears down the hall. There's an awkward moment of silence. There was no knowing how much he'd overheard. We'd woke him up, so he could have been laying there for an hour or more just listening. It was unlikely, but I had learned to study the unlikely.

"Nick?"

"I'm here, Miles." I close my other hand around his and run a thumb over the bandage holding the syringe in his flesh. "I'm not going anywhere."

"You're an idiot. Go home."

"No."

"Nick!"

"No!"

He pauses, panting. "Nick..."

"Miles, stop it." I lift his hand and kiss his knuckles gently. "I'm not going home. There's a spare bed here. I'll sleep on that."

"Huh. Stubborn."

I look up. He's opened one eye and is watching me nuzzling his hand.

"Says the bastard that just wouldn't die."

He scoffs again and looks away. There's more silence until he breaks it again.

"Do you want to?" I must have that stupid look on my face again because he sighs. "Raise the stakes, Nick. Up the ante."

"Have sex?!"

"NICK!" Ema and the nurse that had been following her both faltered in the doorway. They both stare at me, incredulous, before slowly - SLOWLY - making their way over.

He pulls his hand from mine and stonewalls the matron in her clinical robes, answering her fussy questions with curt replies. He's tired. He can move his toes. He feels fine. Yes, his chest hurts, but that's to be expected, right?

Then he asks, "did they catch him?"

Ema looks at the floor. "He... shot himself."

Miles is quiet for a time, then looks at me as the nurse goes to work on the monitors. "Lucky. Would you have defended him?"

I feel my breath catch. I hadn't even thought about it. The man was guilty, but...

"No. I... wouldn't want to do that. He..." _He almost took you from me._

I hear Ema sigh.

Nah. I decide leave the girl hanging, and just lean in to kiss him.

--


End file.
